The Untimely Demise of George Foyet
by ROSSELLA1
Summary: What happens when Foyet and Moriarty meet? Oneshot.


The Untimely Demise of George Foyet

By ROSSELLA1

Note: I do not own Criminal Minds, Sherlock Holmes, or any of its characters and no this is not meant to be taken seriously.

"I thank you for that," Holmes said putting the letter aside.

"Common courtesy." The Professor replied stiffly.

"Even so…" Holmes let the sentence trail off, the ending obvious anyway.

He turned and headed up the trail, Moriarty following closely, until they had both reached the top of the cliff. Once there the Detective turned to eye his opponent but barely had time to prepare himself before the other threw himself at Holmes, knocking him to the ground. For a moment the two rolled back and forth, fighting for the upper hand and striking blows whenever possible. Then, before either of them could stop it, they had rolled dangerously close to the edge of the cliff. Holmes tried to move them away, but of course Moriarty was too stubborn to see that this would benefit him as well and countered Holmes' efforts. The result was that for a brief moment they were balanced half on and half off the cliff and then they were falling through the air, the sound of the waterfall drowning out their screams, the rocks at the bottom getting closer and closer until… THUD!

They both let out a grunt of pain as they hit something hard. Holmes was the first to open his eyes and look around. Thankfully they hadn't hit fallen on the rocks; instead they were both lying on the carpeted floor of what looked like an apartment. Looking around, he noticed a pair of boots, with legs attached, in front of him. His gaze trailed up the body until he saw a face masked in a bizarre black mask staring down at him.

"Who the fuck are you?" The man in front of him exclaimed.

"What the… where are we?" Holmes said, bewilderedly looking around at his surroundings. Moriarty looked equally amazed.

"How did you…. you just…." The man continued, clearly just as perplexed they were.

"Excuse me, sir." The Professor rose to his feet, dusting himself off, Holmes doing the same, "Would you be able to tell us where we are?"

For a moment the man just stared at them, then, "What the fuck?"

Holmes cleared his throat. "My name is Sherlock Holmes and this is Professor Moriarty. I don't know how but-"

"Look," The man said shaking his head in frustration. "I don't care what your names are, I just… Hold up! Did you say Moriarty? As in "the Napoleon of Crime" Moriarty?"

"That's right!" Holmes said quickly while Moriarty just scoffed and turned his head to the side. "How did you hear of him? I suppose maybe that wherever we are recognizes him as the criminal he truly is?"

"Of course they do!" The man laughed. "He's almost as famous as you! Damn, this is so cool! You're like my hero!" At this Holmes face took on an expression of pride and was about to reply when he noticed that the man had turned his attention on a very startled Professor. "You're like the first intelligent but also awesome serial killer ever!"

"Why thank you, I suppose." Moriarty replied, not knowing what to make of this attention. "But who, may I ask, are you?"

"Oh, of course. I'm George Foyet. Boston Reaper?" Moriarty looked nonplussed. "Well, it's after your time I guess. I'm a serial killer too. Bit cooler than you are though (no offense, just saying); when I kill it's direct, not through minions."

"Is that so?" Moriarty asked, his attitude towards the other man clearly chilling.

"Yeah. Actually, I'm waiting for this guy to get home so I can completely wreck his life!" Moriarty gave a disinterested grunt of acknowledgement. "You know," Foyet thought allowed, scratching his chin. "Maybe we could do a double one. I mean since you're both here and all."

"What do you mean?" The Professor replied, confused.

"Well," George gave a small laugh, "Not exactly used to doing teamwork, but I'd be willing to make an exception for you."

"I still don't understand."

"Excuse me!" Holmes said in an annoyed tone. "I'm still here!"

"Exactly," George nodded his head in Holmes' direction. "Your rival's here and soon mine will be too. We can ruin both of their lives together!"

At this, Moriarty started to smile, while Holmes simply exclaimed, "What?" and started to move towards the door, but Moriarty quickly drew a pistol from his pocket and trained it on him. "Not so fast; I want to hear this!" The Professor said.

"Hotchner will be here soon." Foyet continued. "When he comes in I'll subdue him and you keep the gun trained on Holmes." Moriarty nodded. "Then we can find a way to get them to lie down on the floor and taunt them a bit."

"I like it…"

"And then we can rape them and even have sex with the wounds!" Foyet exclaimed.

For a moment Moriarty just stared at the man, then, "What?" He spat.

"Well what's the fun in doing something that won't scar them for life?"

"I understand that, but aren't there other, more…. um conventional methods?"

"Well of course," Foyet snapped, fingering his own gun. "But I want it this way!"

Seeing that he wasn't going to win the argument, Moriarty thought quickly. "Of course, of course. Since you've presented me with this opportunity I'll do what you want to do."

Foyet relaxed a bit. "Good." There was the sound of the key turning in the lock and Foyet motioned for Moriarty to keep Holmes quiet. A tall, dark haired man in a business suit entered the room opposite them. Foyet stepped forward, raising his gun, and the man turned towards him. "You should have-" BANG!

For a moment Hotch looked confused, as he was clearly still alive. Then Foyet keeled over onto the floor, gun dropping from his hand. Glancing further into the room, Aaron saw Moriarty stashing his pistol back into his pocket.

"What?" The Professor snapped, at Holmes astonished look. "People that crazy shouldn't be allowed to exist!" With that he headed towards the door, pushing past the dumbstruck Hotch, "You'll thank me later," He called over his shoulder, on his way out, and slammed the door behind him.

Left in the apartment, all Aaron could do for the next couple of moments was stare down at the body of Foyet. Then, he turned a questioning gaze on Holmes.

The Detective, however, was equally disoriented. "Ummm, Hi…"

End Note: Yes, that one line was making fun of all the fics out there where Foyet rapes Hotch (mine included) but not in a mean way. You guys know that I love them as much as I hate Hotch getting hurt!


End file.
